“Yeah?” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Like you know me or my family. Don’t you dare preach to me. Maybe you would’ve liked to be a psychologist, but you’re not. You’re a maid, so stick to your trade.” Her eyes turn hard. “I’ll be outside. Bring me a turkey sandwich and lemonade. Plenty of ice. When you’re done, you can clean my bathroom again. You missed a spot. Then you can iron my new blue dress. I want to wear it to school tomorrow.”
I want to say I don’t answer to her, but that’s not true. By the rules of our kind, I’m lower on the hierarchy than the cat.
* * *
That afternoon, Carly doesn’t touch her lunch. It’s a delicious looking lasagna, but she’s not to be persuaded to take a bite. Magda and Gabriel treat her with kid gloves. Gabriel goes out of his way to drag a conversation out of her but gives up after a while.
After clearing the table, I salvage the portion from Carly’s plate and set it aside to eat later. The rest I scrape into a plastic container I store in the staff fridge for the street dogs. I hate wasting, and I’m famished, hungry for something other than apples and noodles. I’m sure no one will mind if I eat a leftover portion destined for the trashcan.
During my lunch break, I put a cushion from a patio chair on the deck steps and make myself as comfortable as I can on my bruised butt. Then I dig in. The lasagna is rich with white sauce and cheese, the meat dripping with fresh tomato and oregano. I close my eyes as I chew, savoring every bite. Marie knows how to cook.
I’m almost finished when barking draws my attention. Quincy stands at the edge of the pool with a vicious looking Boerboel. The beast is straining on the leash, baring his teeth.
Quincy jerks on the chain. “Quiet!”
The barking stops, but the dog still growls at me, his lips pulled back over his teeth.
“What the hell are you doing outside? I told you to call. You shouldn’t be in the garden when the dog is out.” Quincy takes a few steps toward me, but stops a safe distance away. “I told
Marie I was taking him for a walk.”
“I guess she forgot to tell me.”
“I’ll have a word with her.” With a tight nod, he continues on his way, the dog hopping along on three legs.
“What’s wrong with his paw?” I call after them.
He pauses. “Don’t know. I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow.”
It looks painful. I leave the plate on the step and get to my feet.
Quincy looks mildly surprised when I approach, but when I’m almost within reach of the leash, he holds up a palm. “Don’t come closer.”
The dog goes ballistic, barking and straining toward me.
“Down, boy,” I say in a stern voice.
The dog reacts immediately. He stops barking and sits down.
“That’s better.”
As I reach for the dog, Quincy looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “Valentina!
Stay––”
His words are cut short when the beast flops down on his side and turns on his back, all four legs in the air.
I go down on my haunches to stroke his belly. “That’s a good boy. It’s not polite to make so much noise for nothing.”
Quincy stares at me, his mouth agape. “How did you do that? No one is able to touch him but me, and I’ve trained with him for a year.”
“I have a thing with animals.”
“You don’t say.”
Smiling at the surprise in his tone, I look up at him. “What’s his name?”
“Bruno.”
“Of course it is. Can I have a look at his paw?”
He squints at me. “If he’ll let you.”
Taking the injured paw in my hand, I study the pad. A broken thorn is lodged in the flesh.
The poor baby must be suffering.
“It’s a thorn.” I point it out to Quincy. “Do you have a pair of tweezers?”
“No.” He thinks for a bit. “Wait. Maybe this’ll do.” He pulls a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and unfolds a small pair of tweezers.
“Perfect.” Taking the knife, I scratch Bruno’s ear. “I’m going to make it better.”
It takes a second to extract the thorn. The area around the wound is inflamed. Handing the knife back to Quincy, I ask, “How long has he been like this?”
“He’s been limping all week. I couldn’t get an appointment at the vet sooner.”
“You’ll still have to take him.” I straighten. “He needs an anti-bacterial and antiinflammatory cream.”
He tilts his head. “How come you know all this stuff?”
“An interest.”
Bruno rolls back onto his paws and licks my toes.
“No shit.” Quincy shoots me a smile. “Thanks for your help. He wouldn’t let me touch that paw.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’m not sure Gabriel is going to be happy when he learns you turned his guard dog into a drooling puppy.”
“It’ll be our secret. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Bruno is a vicious guardian.”
He whistles through his teeth. “Come on, Bruno. Time to finish your walk.” He salutes, and walks off with Bruno in the direction of the orchard.
* * *
My homework is falling behind. I have an essay to finish before Friday next week, but I’m too exhausted to read further than one page. With what happened last night, I didn’t get much sleep. I have to meet my study deadlines. I won’t give up. I can’t. It’s not only my dream that keeps me motivated, it’s knowing that I’ll have something to fall back onto when I’m free. Charlie and I will need an income. We’re not going back to Berea. I have to build a better future for us, and Gabriel Louw isn’t taking that away.
I take a cool shower, still feeling the sting of the water on my back and butt. Since the only nightgown I owned is destroyed, I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of panties before slipping into bed.
Like the first night, Gabriel comes to me when I’m sleeping. I’m not sure if it’s the way he softly cups my breasts or the sound of my moan that wakes me, but I’m too tired to fight it. I simply let him hear what his touch does to me. I’m rewarded with a kiss on the mouth, startling me to a fully awake state. It’s nothing more than a brush of his lips over mine, but the intensity burns like a fire, and I find it…pleasurable. His mouth is cool and dry, and his breath smells of mint and alcohol, like whiskey.
Warm air blows over my ear as his lips graze the shell. “Turn over for me, Valentina.”
He lifts the sheet for me to make it easier, but my feet get tangled in the duvet at the foot. Carefully, he frees each foot, stopping to caress the bridge before planting a kiss on the sole. The tender act confuses me. I expected him to hurt me like last night, not to trail his hands gently up my body and twist my hair into a ponytail before arranging it on the pillow next to me. Maybe he will. My body tenses. Gabriel is anything but predictable. He lifts my arms and, bending them by the elbows, puts my hands above my head. A tap on my inner thigh makes me lift my head to look at him, but he cups my neck and, with the slightest pressure, pushes my face back into the pillow. He taps on my thigh again. Understanding the cue, I open my legs. The mattress dips as he gets onto the bed behind me. He doesn’t undress me, but pushes the T-shirt up to my shoulders and pulls the panties down to the under-curve of my butt.
Heat drenches my skin as he stretches out on top of me without touching our bodies together. Keeping his weight on his arms, he flicks his tongue over a welt on my shoulder, making my nerve endings pop with electricity. Goose bumps break out on my skin when he blows air over the wet trail of his tongue. He continues down my body, treating each lash with the same care, until he reaches the dimples of my ass. As he licks and blows over my ass cheeks, moisture gathers between my legs. This goes on for a long time, until my clit is swollen and pulsing in need.
The first time he lays his hands on me after kissing my bruises is to remove my underwear. Gripping my hips, he lifts my ass. He takes his time to position m
e like he wants, kneeling with my legs spread and my forehead resting on the pillow. With my ass and sex exposed to him, he sits back and watches. I can’t see, but I feel his eyes on my body, burning on my naked parts. His palms glide over my buttocks before he takes a cheek in each hand, parting me like fruit while running his nose from my coccyx to my opening. A shiver runs through my organs. My depraved body knows what’s coming and wants it. His tongue flattens on my clit, warm and wet. I cry out as the raspy, hot surface draws over my slit, all the way to my asshole. Somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a cry of embarrassment, but it’s no use giving rein to the sentiment. Gabriel will do what he wants.
He continues to lap me like this until I’m desperate to come. Unable to stand the slow torture any longer, I moan loudly into the pillow. He hums his approval and finally gives me what I want. Catching my clit gently between his teeth, he flicks his tongue over the nub––fast, but too light.
My hands fist into the sheets. “Ah, God. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please make me come.”
As soon as I verbally express my need, he opens me wider with his hands and nips at my folds, alternating the gentle bites with sucking on my clit. It takes me seconds to come with a violent spasm of my womb. Pins and needles prick my genitals. My toes curl. I can’t take more.
“Stop. Please.”
Begging doesn’t help. He milks me dry until I’m a quivering mess, and only then does he push on my back to lower my pelvis to the bed. I’m shaking and boneless. I never thought it could be like this. He lowers over me, at last pressing our bodies together, until my trembling stops. With a kiss on my neck, he lifts from the bed. I turn on my side to look at him, some part of me needing to see his expression, but he turns his face away. He taps his fingers on my lower back. “Go back to sleep.” Then he’s gone.
For a long time, I lie in the dark, trying to understand Gabriel. I don’t get it. What is he doing to me?
* * *
Gabriel
It doesn’t help that Valentina is around every hour of every day. I’m a walking hard-on, suffering from constant blue balls. No amount of wanking is enough to relieve my ache. I want inside her. Deep. Deep enough to hurt. The only niggle is her virginity. It’s a barrier to me, literally and psychologically. I don’t want to be the one to break her that way. Her first time needs to be special, not monstrous. Even I am not that cruel. She deserves a pretty face and gentle kisses, not a scarface who loves to fuck rough.
In this lies the problem. I can’t take her virginity, and I can’t stomach the thought of someone else taking it, either. I won’t last much longer without relief. I consider calling Helga, but when I think of another woman, I can’t get it up. The image of Valentina’s strung-up body with her underwear around her ankles haunts my nights. I wish I’d taken a photo so I’d have something concrete to jackoff to.
The emergency with Carly is further fuel on my nerves. I’m not sure if I should punish her or call in professional help. I’m not a great moral example. I have no ground to judge or discipline her. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Carly won’t live the life I lead. My mother never gave me the choice. She put a gun in my hand when I was twelve and told me to pull the trigger. When I couldn’t, she shot me in the foot.
There’s no point in talking to Sylvia. Sylvia is way too much like Magda. God knows why I ever thought we had a chance. I loved her. I truly did. I believed she’d learn to love me with time, but the only thing that became clear with time was her ambition. What she wanted was my money and protection, not my love. She married me on her father’s orders and got out as fast as she could, as soon as she produced the heir expected of her. Her sacrifice got her what she wanted. As the mother of my child, she’ll always have my money and protection. After Carly, she insisted on a hysterectomy, ensuring she wouldn’t bear me any more children. Sylvia hated every minute of being pregnant. She was devastated when the doctor confirmed the results of the pregnancy test. Carly stretched and scarred her body. Sylvia never forgave me for that. The minute Carly was born, Sylvia went on a diet and a binge of plastic surgery, letting the nanny take care of our child. Maybe Carly subconsciously felt the rejection. She was a colicky baby. She’s never been an easy child, but she’s my daughter, and the only human being I love in this world. I wish I knew how to fix this.
Magda’s high-pitched voice and fast-slapping heels on the marble floor in the foyer pulls me from my troubles. An itch works its way down my shoulder blades.
“That’s it! I’ve had it.”
I pull the door open to see Magda charge down the hallway with Oscar. She’s got him by the skin of his neck.
“What’s going on?” I barely hide the irritation in my voice.
She doesn’t stop in her stride, but calls over her shoulder, “He peed on my Louis Vuitton sofa. Quincy! Get your ass over here.”
Quincy rounds the corner, a question on his face.
“Here.” Magda pushes the clawing cat into his arms. “Take him to the vet and have him euthanized.”
I’m about to tell my mother she’s overreacting when Valentina flies from the lounge, a cloth and spray bottle in her hands.
“Oh, no, please, Mrs. Louw, you don’t have to do that. It’s not his fault. It may be a urinary infection. I’m sure antibiotics will fix the problem in no time.”
Magda turns on Valentina. “What makes you the goddamn expert?”
“She’s got a point,” Quincy says.
The fact that he puts himself between Valentina and my mother isn’t lost on me. I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“I’m heading out to the vet with Bruno, anyway,” Quincy continues. “I can take Oscar.”
“I’m not spending another cent on this fur pollution. He’s just signed his death warrant.”
That figures. My mother never harbored any love for my late grandmother’s overweight cat. If it was up to her, she would’ve abandoned him at my grandmother’s house after the funeral, but Carly insisted we bring him here.
“I’ll take him,” Valentina says quickly. “I mean to the vet. You don’t have to pay anything,
I promise.”
I lean in the doorframe, enjoying Magda’s irritation. “It was Grandma’s cat, after all,” I drawl.
My mother shoots me a dirty look. “Fine,” she says to Valentina. “If you’ve got money to waste, do as you please, but if he pees in the house one more time, he’s dead.”
“I can take him on Sunday when it’s my day off.”
“Today or never,” Magda says, marching to her study and slamming the door.
Valentina looks at me. There’s a plea on her face. I haven’t missed how Oscar follows her around or that he sleeps in her bed. She’s fond of the shedding fluff ball.
“You can take an hour this afternoon,” I say.
Her face lights up, and a smile transforms her features into something angelic, something too good for me. I take it anyway, enjoying the knowledge that I put that expression on her face, giving her something more than physical pleasure.
“I’ll drive you,” Quincy says.
Immediately, my good mood evaporates. Dark, suffocating jealousy smothers my reason. My bodyguard may mean the gesture in the most platonic way possible, but I want to break every single one of his ribs. The only thing that prevents me from kicking the life out of him is that Valentina doesn’t see the way his eyes soften as he drags them over her, because she’s looking at me. She’s looking at me for permission. The submissive act somewhat calms me. I don’t manage more than a nod.
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze wary, as if she’s reading the change in my temper.
I’ll be watching Quincy from now on.
* * *
Valentina
The vet bill eats a hole into my allowance, money I was going to use for my studies, but the tests are done, and Oscar has medicine. It’s a urinary infection as I thought. The vet assures me he’ll be back to
normal in a couple of days. It was my plan to take him to Kris on the weekend. She would’ve treated him for free, but I couldn’t risk his life, and I don’t doubt for a second Magda would’ve had him put down. To play it safe, I lock him in my room with his litter tray and food, waiting for the frequent urination to stop.
When I get to my room that night, there’s a bundle of colorful silk tied with a ribbon on my bed, and a note tucked underneath. Curious, I pick up the piece of paper. The handwriting is neat and square.
Shave your pussy.
Gabriel is the most warped man I know. Flinging the note aside, I pull the ribbon off to reveal seven nightgowns in red, navy, white, pink, baby blue, black, and cherry plum, all with lace and ribbon trimmings. Did he get me new nightgowns because he destroyed mine, or are the sinfully sexy sleepwear something that turns him on?
I should be studying, but I can’t stop thinking about the note. There will be repercussions if I disobey. In the shower, I trim and shave my pubic hair. It’s a surprisingly lengthy task. After moisturizing my body, I pull on the navy nightgown, which is the least revealing, and sit down on the bed to wait.
It doesn’t take long before I hear footsteps in the kitchen. Oscar, who sleeps on my bed, twitches his ears, but he doesn’t move. Gabriel’s tall frame appears in the doorway. With the backlight from the scullery, his face is in the dark. I can’t make out his expression. He flicks on the light and enters the room with slow but purposeful steps. He’s a man who always knows what he’s doing and who always has a reason for his actions. His gaze slides over me from top to bottom, but there’s nothing of Tiny’s lustful need for a quick fix in his eyes. They’re filled with questions as he runs his fingertips down my arm from my shoulder to my hand. There’s a crazy moment when I almost trust him with my body, that I almost surrender my mind. It’s like being in a car with a good driver, knowing you’ll end up safely at your destination. I must be going nuts. It’s the endorphins my body releases when he touches me. Purely hormonal. Biological.
Gabriel is a sadist, and he made me a whore. I can never trust him.
He slides a finger under the strap of the nightgown. “It looks good on you.”
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